


Where I Must Surely Go

by Iknowthebattle



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Harry Styles - Fandom
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, M/M, NYC, Queer Character, easy love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 14:36:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16812625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iknowthebattle/pseuds/Iknowthebattle
Summary: Harry X Timmy in Timmy's childhood bedroom. This takes place in the same world as Regent.Inspired by the song "I Like Me Better" by Lauv.Thank you for @muchlove-judge for sending the song to me knowing full well what she was doing.Please note: there are notes of Armie/Timmy here but this is NOT an Armie X Timmy fic. Please read and heed the tags.





	Where I Must Surely Go

Harry’s bare feet climbed the wall beside Tim’s childhood bed in the one place there weren’t any posters, all of which were faded and peeling off at the edges from age. The mattress and box springs of the bed were the same, but a new, dark blue duvet, matching sheets and pillow cases were on top, giving the twin bed a grown up, college dorm look.

Harry lay on his back; hips tilted upward balancing a cup of coffee on his stomach between his hands. It was early yet, but neither he nor Timmy had slept.

Their voices were low despite the apartment being empty. Tim’s parents were in Paris visiting Pauline. But it seemed right to whisper, to nod and grin in silent agreement at certain things while they were here.

Timmy lay beside him but facing the opposite direction, feet hanging off the edge of the bed. His coffee cup sat empty on top of his night stand on top of a stack of unread or half-read books.

His room was full of everything he had ever loved; DVD’s and CD’s stacked beside the door, old game controllers at the top of his closet, signed basketball jerseys hanging on one wall, posters from plays he had done in High School pinned to another signed by the entire cast and crew.

Tim remembered feeling so grown up, so important when they all gathered around the edge of the stage to sign the posters before opening night to be hung in the lobby of the theater.

Harry had asked Tim why he hadn’t gotten his own place yet, Tim said he had, but then everything happened, good things, amazing things and now he was gone too much to have an apartment here or anywhere. And where else would he want to live anyway other than New York and shit, he wasn’t rich.

Tim could feel Harry wondering to himself how Tim lived like this sometimes but lived life outside of this room, outside of his childhood apartment in a completely different way, a different world.

He knew he was mulling it over the by the way he bit his thumb nail, then his pointer finger nail, then finally his middle finger, eyes focused on a poster of the Knicks above their heads.

“What?” Tim rolled his head over to look at Harry, his voice hoarse from lack of sleep and overuse.

Harry shook his head. His hair was getting longer, darker in the winter months.

“It’s just so _tiny_.” Harry turned to look at Tim now, putting his hand palm up on Tim’s stomach. He wiggled his fingers and Tim got the hint, putting his hand in Harry’s.

They lay like that for a long time without speaking. Tim knew Harry could feel his heartbeat behind his rib cage.

“I hope you’re talking about my bedroom,” Tim cough-laughed. Too much weed.

Harry laughed too, slow and easy, his other hand on his own stomach.

“I am, I am.”

Harry sat up now, leaning on one elbow to look down at Tim. His hair was long enough to lie on the top of his shoulder, his curls now more like waves. He had recently gotten his left ear re-pierced and tonight it was a silver hoop, then a longer, second earring in the shape of a rose. It matched the one on his arm.

Tim couldn’t help but stare at the earrings, reaching up to jingle the rose.

Harry smiled, knowing; put a hand over Tim’s.

“You can get one too ya know.”

Tim nodded. But he wouldn’t. Just pretending was enough for now.

Tim moved his hand to trace over the ink up and down Harry’s left arm as he did many times before. Harry had slowly told him over time what a few of them meant to him or why he had bothered getting them (some deeply personal, others deeply idiotic), but some still remained a mystery and Tim didn’t mind.

In a way he didn’t need to know everything about Harry, not even the things he wore on the outside of his body, literally on his skin, for show some would assume, but Tim knew better. Tim knew they told private stories.

Harry let him trace his hands around the images, Tim eventually digging his thumbnail deeper in the edges and corners of his anchor near Harry’s wrist.

Tim knew it was connected to someone Harry used to love, maybe still loved, maybe a little bit, an old and familiar love that was hard to misplace or maybe a deeper love, something more than he let on, a constant drum beat sort of love that makes you too sad, too happy as you remember.

Tim knew both kinds of love too.

Harry had matching ink he shared with other people. Tim wanted to ask about that too, but it would seem weird, because it meant he knew a lot or at least something about other people who had once been in Harry’s life.

Tim studied people and the world too much, took in so much and wanted to know everything.

His wanted to believe his curiosity was simply to feed a desire for knowledge, for deeper understanding, but in reality Tim hated not knowing shit too. He wanted to grow but he also couldn’t stand feeling left out.

Harry had texted him instantly when he had liked an Instagram post of a wall covered in One Direction posters, mostly a photo of Zayn and Niall with a simple trio of question marks and a screen shot of his crime. Harry had wasted no time.

Tim’s stomach flip-flopped. He hadn’t been sure how to answer but he had breathed again when Harry followed it up with-

_This is how you cheat on me?_

Tim had grinned, tugging on his own dark curls. He typed back, the too-long sleeves of his hoodie covering his hands.

_Didn’t think you’d notice._

He had very much done it so that Harry would see it.

A quick reply;

_I notice everything._

Harry watched him now, leaving red indentions around the edges of his ink. He bent down to kiss the tops of Tim’s knuckles.

Tim inhaled softly, swiftly.

Harry could be so gentle, perceptive, noticing everything in every kind of way you wanted a person to notice, to know you. Tim felt goosebumps spread out across the flesh of his arm.

Tim wasn’t sure what this was, but he knew they had spent the entire night talking, Harry flying in to New York without telling a soul other than him for no other reason Tim could work out than to see him.

Harry had a hotel room, but Tim wanted to meet him here and they hadn’t left.

“This is so easy….” Tim whispered.

Harry looked at him, lips still hovering above his hand.

“What is?”

Tim shrugged.

“Being with you, talking to you, _at_ you maybe,” another tired laugh and Harry joined him, warm breath against his skin.

Harry lifted the bottom of Tim’s t-shirt, letting his lips play there. Tim sucked in a breath between his teeth, watching Harry tease but there was intent behind every single motion, the way he kissed the spot below Tim’s bellybutton, fingers tugging down the waistband of his sweatpants.

There was life before the magazine article and interview came out and now there was this and everything that would come after.

This was the first time they weren’t together because Tim was filming in London after meeting randomly at a fashion show and they had been drunk, high, happy and horny. It felt like years had passed since they had been tucked away in Armie’s place in LA when he wasn’t there because they both found themselves on the west coast at the same time more often than not.

It was still easy, it was maybe the easiest part of Tim’s life, but it was something more now too.

Tim couldn’t name it and had learned from Harry, he shouldn’t have to, he didn’t have to.

He was okay living in a blurry, undefined space with Harry. He liked himself better when he was with Harry and he knew by now that you shouldn’t fuck with that feeling.

He felt this way with Saoirse too sometimes, young and happy to be in her orbit, galloping around the streets of New York in secret, in their own little world of Chinatown dive bars and riding the Staten Island Ferry all night, back and forth drunk. They were in love.

But this of course was different. Harry was another planet Tim had pulled closer to his center of gravity, but it was another entity all together, he lived in a different atmosphere with Harry.

“He still makes you happy doesn’t he? In his own kinda fucked up way.” Harry had asked after their second round of Tim’s Dad’s beers they had found in the fridge. Tim felt like he was sixteen again.

Tim had been inching closer to Harry slowly over the course of the evening, moving to stand in front of him in the kitchen in socked feet until their hips were touching, Tim’s hands on Harry, the cold beer bottle sweating through Harry’s Harley Davidson tee.

“You do notice everything,” Tim had only half-joked, unsure of how to respond.

Harry nodded, hands on Tim’s back shoving his half-hard cock against his own. Tim gasped, closed his eyes. Harry was hard too.

“Mmm yeah. People…have a habit of working their way in. Sometimes…I fucking hate it.”

Tim stared at Harry now, a look of mutual understanding about so many things.

“Yes,” he breathed and they said nothing more about it.

Tim watched now as Harry lowered the top of his sweatpants even further, fingers combing through the course black hair near the top.

He lifted his hips inviting him to pull his pants all the way off and Harry did as he was silently asked.

He moved to the edge of the bed, on his knees on either side of Tim’s legs. He began running his hands from his ankles up to his thighs, cool metal and warm skin.

Tim began to shake, nearly embarrassed at how hard he was, how his legs couldn’t stop vibrating as if he had already been laid into in every kind of way.

“ _Fuck….”_

“Shh…” Harry was calming, not scolding him. He smoothed over his flesh with both hands until Tim’s body relaxed back into the bed, until his breath steadied.

He stared at the ceiling where he knew all the dents and creases.

This was the second time he was about to get a blow job in his boyhood bed from another boy.

“Look at me,” Harry gently instructed.

Tim did, eyes lowering, lashing nearly covering his gaze. He was doing his best to keep his eyes open, to follow Harry’s every move as he took him in his mouth slowly, letting his cock rest in the side of his jaw, somehow avoiding his teeth.

“Fuck…how do you…how do you do that?”

Tim knew the answer but he wanted Harry to speak, to hum, anything to create a sensation against him inside his mouth and Harry responded in kind with a low chuckle.

Tim nearly came off the bed.

Harry was better at this than anyone he’d ever had. He was so good at it that Tim actively thought about it at random times during the day when reading a book or taking a walk, and sometimes he would text Harry a photo of just his stomach, the tops of his sweats of boxers pulled down.

Sometimes Harry would respond with the tongue emoji but usually he just answered with _yes_.

That alone was enough to cause Tim’s body to quietly spasm in public or private.

They had exhausted themselves that night, talking and burning through the hours, beer and coffee on hand and now they would burn through one another.

Tim knew that Harry wasn’t oblivious to doing this here, now, in Tim’s old room where a thousand thoughts and dreams had been born and released. Now they were doing this after the world read a conversation between the two of them that had been more intimate than intended, but maybe there was no other way they knew how to speak to one another.

Harry took Tim entirely into his mouth until he touched the back of his throat and Tim reached back to punch at the wall behind him.

Harry never stopped looking at him as he did this, moving up and down, popping off at the bottom to remind Tim to keep watching.

“I-I can’t.”

Harry started in again, this time hands balancing himself on Tim’s thighs.

“I don’t wanna come like this,” he managed to get out, lips wet with spit, cheeks flushed, soaked in sweat.

Harry stopped, hands still on Tim.

“In my mouth?” Harry’s voice seemed innocent, confused.

Tim groaned, grabbing the top of Harry’s head, fingers in his hair to put him back in his place.

“Nevermind, nevermind,” Tim murmured, chanted.

He could feel his sweat making a Tim shaped outline beneath him on the sheets like a chalk sketch at a crime scene, Tim a victim of lust and easy attraction, struck down with admiration and envy and quiet affection.

He came in Harry’s mouth easily, Harry’s body stiff as he swallowed but he kept his eyes open, focused so he could witness Tim’s unraveling, Tim croaking out curse words and grateful mumblings, hands still on either side of Harry’s head.

Harry stayed where he was through the aftershocks of Tim’s desire, slowly pulling away, eyes still on Tim’s face. His mouth was empty, his lips slick.

He leaned up to kiss Tim’s stomach in a line straight up to his chest, his neck where he nipped at a vein and finally to arrive at Tim’s lips, sucking them into his mouth so Tim could taste himself.

“I know I’ve said it before but…you taste fucking amazing…” Harry’s voice was groggy, the back of his throat still coated. His entire body lay on top of Tim now.

Tim’s flush turned to blush but he didn’t care. He let his legs, his body lay open, lifting his head off the bed to meet Harry, this time sucking Harry’s lips into his mouth, Tim’s neck veins straining to pull and bite at them until Harry made a sound.

“Mmm my turn,” Harry pulled back, sitting up on his knees again.

Tim ran his hands under Harry’s shirt and nodded.

“Whatever you want.” And Tim meant exactly that.

It wasn’t quite a routine or pattern, the talking, the mental exchanges and conversations about things bigger than them, then the claiming of one another’s bodies, but Tim knew what would happen after.

They would sleep huddled up against one another on this piece of shit bed, the radiator heater making the room too hot so they would sleep with the window cracked. They would wake up in the late afternoon naked, freezing, and they would have more coffee and begin some sort of sharing all over again.

Tim knew as he rolled over and climbed on top of Harry’s body, freeing him of his clothes, that it was more ritual than habit, something sacred. It had taken on a new form, a new shape now though the pleasure, the joy in dialogue was the same.

It was a new, untouched place.

Somehow both had known they would both inevitably end up here, exactly as they were now, lovers and friends, exploring new worlds through their comfort, their fearlessness.

**Author's Note:**

> Iknowthebattle on Tumblr where it's 90% Harry, Timmy and Ezra owning the red carpet like the Goddess they are. X


End file.
